


Day 16

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [16]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Kinktober, Knifeplay, Masochism, No Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: Grief and sorrow does strange and horrible things to the mind. For her failure - for Nick and Madison - Alicia demands punishment. Luciana obliges because she cares.





	Day 16

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Luciana whispers. She’s leaning over Alicia, her dark tresses forming a shield around them – blocking them from the outside, from the pain and grief and loneliness. But it’s not enough, _never enough_.

“But I want you to,” she responds. She shifts, propping herself up on her elbows; their foreheads are nearly touching as they stare into each other’s eyes. “Please.”

Her eyes never leave Luciana’s as she reaches down; a second later, she’s pressing a block of cold metal into her hand. Luciana doesn’t need to look down to know what it is. Alicia’s butterfly knife. It’s always on her, tucked into her boots or her jacket or her pants, but she mostly uses the machine gun barrel now. _I don’t want to lose it_ , she once told her, _it means too much_. That it’s what she wants used means something and the older woman knows it.

Fingers tightening around the blade, Luciana sits back. She uses her other hand to brush away a strand of her hair as Alicia flattens against bed, her green eyes pleading. She doesn’t say them but the words are clear. _Hurt me. Cut me. Heal me._

This is punishment – for failing all those that have come before them. They all feel that, they all understand that. But Alicia is a perfectionist and failure hits her like a ton of bricks. She needs something more than the shame and sorrow that the others consist of. It’s not healthy, Luciana knows that, but she empathizes. That’s why she doesn’t let go of the blade or get off the bed; that’s why she doesn’t walk from _this_ or _her_.

She unfolds the blade; the knife is sharp as ever, glimmering in the dull light spilling through the dirty windows. Luciana examines it and then looks down at Alicia, looks at the pale expense of her neck and chest. That’s where she starts, pressing the blade to the soft skin right above the neckline of her tank top. She doesn’t use enough strength to even nick the skin but Alicia’s breath catches in her throat.

Luciana traces the top of her breasts, stopping in the center when her knife touches her shirt. This is when she finally uses her strength, cutting through the fabric and tearing the shirt away from her body. The bra goes next in the same fashion. They’re free now and easy to find in any department store; people rarely thought to grab them in the chaos.

With her free hand, she reaches out to touch Alicia’s skin; her fingertips trail over the smooth expanse. She tenses beneath her, relaxing after a second. As much as Luciana would rather worship her body, she knows this isn’t what she wants. So, as Luciana drags the knife back up, she puts pressure on the blade. A hiss sneaks past Alicia’s gritted teeth and blood wells up along the knife’s path.

“ _More_.”

Luciana indulges her. She picks spots across her chest and abdomen; she doesn’t go higher than the collarbone or lower than the hipbone. After the first cut, she applies her attention to the task; she cuts patterns into her skin, swooping and curving, vaguely floral. She counts each one, each line and cut, and stops when Alicia’s skin is decorated in red.

The younger woman is breathing hard by then. Luciana sets the blade on the bed and leans over, pressing a kiss to her forehead before unfolding from the bed. There’s an attached bathroom with running water; she grabs some cloth and dunks it under the stream before rifling around in the cabinets for the first aid kit. She brings both to the bed and sets to work on cleaning and bandaging Alicia’s wounds.

“Thank you,” she whispers, sounding horse. She’s limp beneath Luciana’s touch but each time her fingers brush over her chest, she can feel her pounding heart. She gives her a soft smile, running a hand over her hair.

“Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated. You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/).


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